Emantek
by Yrael's Voice
Summary: It has been more than thirty years since the second sealing of Orannis, and another necromancer rears his head, however his motives may not be what you expect.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Some things are not always what they seem.

I stood in the cold river, the chill water flowing around my knees. The bells of a necromancer strapped across my chest weighed slightly on my breathing, but I was learning to ignore it. Either that or they were having less and less effect on me. My dark blade of black fire dripped ghostly flames into the river from my right hand, the bell, held by the clapper, in my left.

I was right at the gate that would take me back to the sixth precinct, however, I was not moving. A disturbance in the water had made me pause, and as I looked back, I observed a thin line of ripples moving swiftly toward me, zigzagging back and forth underneath the water. It was strong, as I could not sense its presence, but it was clumsy. I had heard it as it descended below the water as it registered my appearance from the eighth precinct.

I had noticed this particular spirit before, as I crossed through this precinct on my way to the verge of the ninth, but it knew I was powerful, and so was wary and did not attack; however its hunger for life had now overcome its fear of my blade and bells, or so I thought. I put away Kibeth, the bell I was holding at the time, and drew Saraneth. It erupted from the water seconds later, a mass of roiling darkness, but it did not attack, as I thought it would, and so my sword swished harmlessly through air as I swung at it, preparing to ring the bell.

The dead spirit was standing in front of me, two sword-lengths away. I paused, unsure of its intention. It was vaguely human, with misshapen limbs. It was grossly thin, and easily over twelve feet tall.

It pointed one long hand at its twisted mouth, and opened and closed it. The movement was clearly meant to be talking, but it looked more like it was eating something. I looked at it warily. I kept my sword pointed at it, and rang Saraneth, to be on the safe side, for the dead creature could easily be trying to trick me. Now that it was bound to my will, and so frozen in place, I carefully put away the large, wieldy bell, and drew Dyrim. The Abhorsen would immediately banish this creature to beyond the ninth gate without a second thought, however my curiosity had overcome me.

As the sound of the bell rang out across the dark river, a tongue of shining silver formed in the dead thing's mouth. It garbled a few times experimentally, and then gazed at me.

"You are a necromancer." It stated. It was not a question. I stared at it cautiously, but I was safe, for it was under the power of Saraneth.

"Yes." I replied. "What is it that you want?"

"You wield the seven bells of a normal necromancer, yet you wield an extra two. Why?" It asked. I was surprised by the question. What reason could one of the dead possibly have for caring about what bells I had, so long as they were not being used on it?

"A personal addition to my arsenal. None other wields these bells, as no others exist." I ran a hand across the blackened mahogany of the bell handles across my chest. Nine in all.

"So you say. It matters not to me, I was merely curious." It said, though it eyed the two extra bells cautiously. "I wish to return to life. And you can help me." It kneeled down.

"I may be a necromancer." I stated. "But I am no normal necromancer. I serve a similar purpose to the Abhorsen." The dead thing flinched at the sound of the name. "I have just returned from banishing one of the greater dead past the ninth gate." Though the dead thing already knew this, it seemed important to note.

"I know, I observed you following the spirit on your way through towards the ultimate death. This is a request I can ask of only you. For I wish to return to life, not under the strict servitude of a necromancer, and the Abhorsen will not grant my wish, though neither can grant what I truly wish. I see the power in your bells, and in your spirit." I knew the thing was referring to the two extra bells on my chest, but it meant one in particular. The eight bell in the bandolier. One that I had made myself, along with the ninth in a long and complicated procedure that nearly destroyed me.

"Why should I free you, to wreak havoc in the land, when I have spent the past fifteen years banishing your kind?" I replied angrily.

"I have no violent intentions towards the world of the living. I have spent the past many years wrestling with my hunger for life, building my strength, so one such as you may come along and grant me the life I seek. But you already know that your bells can heal me of even the majority of that affliction." I took a small, unconscious step backwards. Could this dead thing really understand the power of the eighth bell? Impossible. Not even the other necromancers that I had banished recognised my bells, or the power that lay in them.

"I was once a necromancer. One very much like yourself, except I was not strong enough to overcome the power of the free magic that had twisted my mind. you, however, are different. You have embraced free magic, but denied its very nature. You can help me." I kept studying its face, its posture – still kneeling in the water, still taller than me – I detected no deception.

"If I bring you back. What will you do?" I asked, tentatively.

"If you allow, I would stay with you, for I wish to undertake the work that I yearned while I was alive." I faltered. I'd never had a companion. Nobody was willing to so much as go near me. People feared me, for I was a necromancer, other necromancers shunned me, for I did work similar to the Abhorsen, their sworn enemy. Even the animals shied away from the taint of free magic which surrounded me.

"I… will allow you to stay with me. You will not be under the control of any bell, for the power of my bell will heal you of any hunger you suffer for the living, however you will not be alive. It will not be a life of gratitude. You will not be able to inhabit a real body, for your spirit will still corrode any mortal flesh, so I must craft you one of free magic. I fear I have lingered much too long here, and must continue. Follow." The dead creature was still under the power of Saraneth, so it had no choice but to follow. It strode after me, as I made my progress back to life. Most of the greater dead in death knew me, and those that did not, could see my power, but some were still naïve enough to attack, and I didn't want to take that risk.

The string of free magic runes that I would use to create this dead spirits body already flowed through my mind. It would be a complex spell, but a necessary one, for even after the power of the eighth bell healed its deformities, and its hunger for life, it would still be a dead spirit. That was the nature of the eighth bell, for Yrael had the power to heal wounds and afflictions, but not entirely restore the spirit if it had stayed a lengthy time in death, as this one had.

As we came to the very edge of death, standing on the threshold of life, I stopped. The dead spirit stopped with me and stood expectantly behind me. I took a breath, and ran my hand over each of the bells, reciting their names and powers in my head, as was the custom of any Abhorsen to relieve stress, and was one I performed whenever I prepared to use the power of the eighth or ninth bells.

Ranna, the Sleeper. Takes all who hear it into a deep sleep.

Mosrael, the Waker. Brings many spirits back from death, but acts as a see-saw and throws the ringer far into death.

Kibeth, the Walker. Can grant the freedom of movement, or force them to walk at the ringers will. In an unsteady or inexperienced hand, Kibeth can also turn on the ringer, forcing them to walk where they would not.

Dyrim, the Speaker. Gives speech to those who lack it, or gives forgotten words their meaning. It can also still a tongue that moves too freely.

Belgaer**,** the Thinker. Restores independent thought to the dead, but can cloud a mind when used in a careless hand.

Saraneth, the Binder. Shackles the dead to the ringers will, forcing them to do the ringer's bidding.

And the last of the original seven, Astarael, The Weeper. Casts all who hear it deep into death, including the ringer.

My hand ran over the remaining two bells. I had created them myself, with fragments of long-forgotten knowledge, gained over a period of many years from a great many sources. The process of constructing these two bells had forced me into very close contact with the very nature of the bell's namesakes. It was this which made Yrael infinitely easier to craft than Orannis, for in order to create the ninth bell, I had to assert my dominance over the destroyer, nearly destroying myself in the process. They were dangerous and very powerful bells.

Yrael, the Healer. When sounded properly, Yrael can heal the wounds of the body, mind, and soul, restoring the target to health, even those who have already died. However, Yrael cannot completely heal a spirit if it has spent too long in the waters of death. When sounded in an unsteady, or inexperienced hand, Yrael can open old wounds of the ringer, strengthening their pain.

And the last, most powerful, most defiant bell. Orannis, the Destroyer. Orannis unleashes a devastating force on the target, creating new wounds, of both the body and soul. This bell should be used only by an extremely careful and powerful spirit, and even then, only if backed into a corner, as it will rage against the ringer's will, attempting to destroy everything around it, living or otherwise.

I took another deep breath, and drew Yrael. The bell was a different shape to the others, as was Orannis. They looked more like antique decorations than well-used bells, with ornate swirls and carvings on their surface. Yrael had the image of a tiny collar around the handle, with a small replica bell hanging from it. This was in tribute to Yrael, who spend millennia in servitude to the Abhorsens, but was released after the second binding of Orannis, over thirty years ago.

I rang the bell in the shape of an ictus, first one way, then the other, using my will to direct the force of the sound upon the dead creature that followed me. The bell, which I had, to that point, used but rarely, produced a sound of choirs. The creature shuddered. Then its outline began to waver, before becoming completely indistinct. It then quickly took the shape of a well proportioned, fit young woman. This I was not expecting, and the loss of focus almost made me lose control of the bell, however I grappled its power back under my control. The woman who now stood before me was quite beautiful, with midnight black hair, clashingly pale skin, with a slim figure and angled face. She opened her mouth to speak, the tongue of silver from Dyrim remained.

"I thank you necromancer. I realise we have not been properly introduced. My name is Livana; I am the daughter of Chlorr of the Mask." I recoiled slightly. Chlorr was a fierce and horrible necromancer, whose powers, along with her madness, were only exacerbated when Kerrigor made her a member of the greater dead. "Fear me not, necromancer, my mother was a creature most vile, and I am ashamed that I even began down the path she devoted herself to." This I understood. The lure of free magic was a difficult one to resist. I had originally begun down the path of the petty necromancer, before beginning my life anew.

"I understand." I replied. "I am not one to judge a person on their heritage. I myself am descended from a necromantic adept." She nodded. "I am Emantek. Understand, Livana, daughter of Chlorr, that while you may not be bound in servitude to me, neither will you have complete freedom. I must take responsibility for you. Where I go, you follow. It will be a partnership that has never before been seen." Livana nodded again.

"I understand, Emantek." She shivered. "You carry a name of power. I was not an adept at necromancy, as my mother was, however I had a talent for seeing the touch of fate in people's souls. And your soul, bane of the dead Emantek, has a touch of destiny about it." I shrugged, returning Yrael to my bandolier and sheathing my sword.

"We shall return to life once I have constructed your vessel. Where we go from there, I know not." I situated myself so that my back was at the very border of life, the warmth from the realm of the living seeping into me. I began chanting free magic runes, weaving a spell that would, after its completion, give Livana a body to use in life. The familiar acidic burn flowed up my throat with the words, as well as the metallic taste of free magic, however these were both sensations I had long since numbed myself to. The process would take little longer than a few hours, and I had no worry of my body, for it was protected by both its remote location, and by the many free magic wards and barriers I had placed around it. It would take even the full power of an Abhorsen days to break through these protections, and I had not been in death long.

Livana waited patiently, however I could tell she was eager to return to life. I would have to keep a very close watch on her until I knew she was trustworthy. Many would call it a horrible act of necromancy to return a being to the realm of the living; however I am one who dares venture where others would not. I am Emantek, a free magic sorcerer and necromancer, who fulfils the work of an Abhorsen. I am the bane of the dead, and am living proof that things are not always as they seem.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

A Meeting of Chance

"We must hurry master!" Livana shouted as we tore through the underbrush. "The Abhorsen will soon be here." I nodded grimly. We had come to a town near the coast with reports of a necromancer wreaking havoc with dead hands and a mordicant under his command. When we arrived, we easily banished the hands, and Livana was more than a match for the mordicant, however, we had not counted on the free magic constructs that the necromancer had summoned. Whoever this necromancer was, he was more powerful than they had expected, and had two hish under his control.

"Damnit" I growled. Normally, two hish would not pose a problem for them, however banishing the constructs would take time, and with the Abhorsen's paperwing soaring towards them, closing the distance fast, they needed to flee. A meeting with the Abhorsen would cause untold problems, for she would assume they were assisting the necromancer attacking the village. While he had no doubt he and Livana would be able to overcome the Abhorsen, Lirael, they had no wish to do so.

The two hish who followed them screamed a murderous wail as their prey escaped through the sparse forest. Hish were deathly fast over flat, open terrains, however the trees allowed us to gain a lead. When we were a suitable distance from the town and the Abhorsen, I skidded to a stop in a clearing, intoning several phrases of free magic, which dripped from my mouth in the form of black fire and gathered into an orb in each of my hands. My throat burned from casting the powerful free magic spell, however he banished the pain from his mind, as the two hish burst into the ring of trees.

Flinging the two balls of black fire at each hish, I shouted several more words of free magic. The two spells collided with the hish, bursting around them, enveloping them in dark fire. They screamed again, this time in fear, as the fire constricted them, pushing them on all sides. It was extremely hard to fully destroy a free magic construct without proper preparation, which we lacked, so I intended to seal them for the time being. The black fire continued to crush the two hish down to size, before taking a silver sheen. Losing its dark radiance, the two orbs of fire containing the hish, now no bigger than my fist, solidified and changed shape, taking the form of two opaque, gleaming silver bottles no bigger than a small jar. I walked quickly over to the two jars, as just as I was bending over to pick them up, the peal of a bell, which I recognised as the Abhorsen's Saraneth, which made a subtly different sound to my free magic version, pierced the silence created when the hish stopped screaming. Livana stiffened beside me.

"Wait" I hissed as I felt her struggle against the bell's power. "It is pointless to fight, unless we have to" We were each strong enough to break the Abhorsen's hold over us, but I did not want to give her cause to chase us further. I rose my voice. "Come out, Abhorsen. We will not resist you" A rustling came from the bushes in the direction of the town, and out stepped the Abhorsen, Lirael. Her brown hair framed her pale-skinned face, and she held her sword and the bell Saraneth with an air of calm determination.

"Necromancer" She spat. She looked at us with indifference at first, but her expression flickered to shock as the saw my bandolier of nine bells, instead of the regular seven. "You… carry nine bells… how… what…" She fell silent. Her face flickered through several emotions; confusion, wonder, fear, then to determination. "Explain yourself!" She demanded. "How is it you carry nine bells. Speak swiftly and truthfully necromancer, lest you wish to die where you stand." I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender.

"My name is Emantek." Abhorsen shivered as I spoke my name. "I am a necromancer and free magic adept unlike any other you have encountered, for I am like you." Abhorsen scowled angrily, and was about to shout out in protest, but I cut her off. "I am like you in that I put the dead to rest." She stared at me, shocked, her eyes set in a grimace of disbelief. I continued. "As for my bells, the eighth and ninth bells I carry are my own creation. Yrael and The Destroyer." I dared not speak the ninth bell's name, for it carries a power much like, and much more powerful and dreadful, than my own. Abhorsen, for her part, simply stared at me with disbelief and outrage colouring her features. Then she regained her composure, and spoke.

"Why should I believe you, necromancer. Your greater dead servant behind you is proof that you do not put the dead to rest, and free magic hangs over and around you like smog, and your so clearly corrupted charter mark on your forehead is a blight upon the world. As for your bells, they are tainted with free magic also, even the two extras, who you name after Yrael and The Destroyer." I winced. I was afraid of this. The Abhorsens have been dealing with necromancers for so long, that I had little hope they would believe me. I still had to try.

"My companion here" I corrected her. "Has no ill will towards the living. As for my magic, I do indeed use free magic, as the charter is far too confined and limited by its rules for me to effectively utilise. My bells are a similar story. We came to this village to rid it of the necromancer who has been terrorising it with his dead servants." Abhorsen's expression remained unchanged.

"My son, the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, is dealing with that petty necromancer as we speak. I followed the two hish which, I now realise, must have been chasing you." She glanced at the two bottles at my feet. "You seem to have taken care of them, however. Alright necromancer, you have convinced me you are not with the one that has been attacking this village, your intentions, however, are still in question, and your story is an outlandish one, which I still do not entirely believe." I grimaced, fearful of this.

"How can we make you believe?" Livana asked, her voice light as air, and sweet as honey. This seemed to catch Abhorsen off guard, and she flinched, nearly ringing Saraneth again. Regaining her composure, she spoke once more.

"I have no direct evidence of your participation in events here, other than your mere presence, which is not enough for me to condemn you, however, I find your story hard to believe, and I would not believe it, were it not for your extra bells. Will you allow me to take you two into custody while I meet with the king? You will not be harmed, but if you refuse, I will have to kill you on the spot." I flinched. So it was either become a prisoner, or kill the Abhorsen. Both outcomes were undesirable at the least, so I chose the only one I knew I could do.

"We will accompany you to a place of holding, I won't accept any bindings, nor may you confiscate my bells. We will, however, give you our swords." Livana gaped at me for a second, then masked her emotions. She held out her sword, the last of the black fire dripping from the end of the blade, to become, seemingly, a normal sword once more. I unbuckled my sheathed sword from my hip, and held it out to Abhorsen. She hesitated a moment, then collected our weapons.

"We will need to travel over ground, my paperwing is build for one person only. I have a horse in every town from the wall to Belisaere. You two will have to travel on foot…"

"No." I interrupter her. "We have steeds. The fastest in the Old Kingdom." Abhorsen raised her eyebrow questioningly. "They have to be, in order to travel quickly across the Old Kingdom. You, of all people, should know the importance of fast travel for those in our line of work." Abhorsen grimaced, and I could tell she still did not fully believe me.

"If you will not give me your bells, then at least remove them, and put them away, out of sight. It would cause a panic for a necromancer to be in Belisaere." I understood this. Many times I had narrowly avoided having to take innocent life because somebody had panicked after seeing my bells. As I unbuckled my bandolier, I whistled. A sharp, high whistle, imbued with a single free magic glyph. Abhorsen drew her sword and prepared to ring Saraneth, but Livana held up her hands.

"Peace! Abhorsen. He is merely summoning our steeds." Abhorsen stopped the only half-started motion of ringing the bell, but still did not relax. I finished unbuckling the belt, just as two horses entered the clearing. They were both large, proud, midnight black, and magnificent beasts. Abhorsen stared in wonder.

"They are both alive! She exclaimed." And I suppressed a laugh. "They do not fear your free magic?" I shook my head.

"Our steeds have been bred for the purpose of carrying us. They are both accustomed to carrying us, but also have many, very quiet, free magic spells placed on them. These horses will shy from nothing." Abhorsen nodded.

"Come." She said. "We will return to the village, and pick up my horse, then we will ride to Belisaere. It should take us no longer than a week to get there." She faced Livana and me with a stern expression. "If either of you give so much as a hint of treachery, I will destroy you immediately. Your greater dead… companion… will have to wait outside Belisaere as you come within the walls and face the king."

"I apologise, Abhorsen, but that is out of the question. Livana goes wherever I do." Abhorsen frowned.

"There is no getting around it. No dead creature can enter Belisaere because of the aqueducts that keep water flowing around the city at all times. And the trial cannot be held outside of the city." I laughed, a short, barking laugh.

"That too, will not be a problem milady. You see, my companion, as you so aptly defined her, is not deterred by running water." Abhorsen gaped in shock.

"But… she is one of the greater dead! How can she pass under flowing water?" I looked the woman in the eye. And simply stated.

"Yrael."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Interrogation

Livana, though she didn't openly show it, was bewildered by the great city of Belisaere. Over the years since King Touchstone and Abhorsen Sabriel's reign, and now under the new rule of Queen Ellimere and her husband Nicholas Sayre, who spent most of his time in Ancelstierre, (whose influence over the Ancelstierran government had increased political cooperation between the two nations significantly), the great city of Belisaere had more than doubled in size. The streets were packed full of people, particularly in the market district, which could be seen from the window in the room where Livana and I were being kept in the castle. She and I were gazing out the window, which stretched almost from the floor to the ceiling, staring out over the city of scurrying citizens, all going about their daily lives, mostly oblivious to the troubles of the outside world, thanks to the aqueducts, which transported fast flowing water around the perimeter of the city, and the plethora of royal guards that patrolled the metropolis. Livana opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted her before she could say her first word.

"Yes, it is immense." She closed her mouth, and nodded in agreeance, her face blank in her usual expression, but I could tell from the twitch of her fingers, and the corner of her mouth, that she was overawed by the huge city. We continued to look out over the city, I could see the Sea of Saere, which once rimmed the city nearly completely, save a land bridge which allowed for land access, now reclaimed in order to make room for the expanding city. It was an incredible feat of skill and strength, the reclaiming of such a vast area of water, accomplished by the legendary Lord Sameth, inheritor of the wallmaker's bloodline. Rumour had it that he was largely responsible for the success of the second binding of The Destroyer thirty years ago. He had also crafted the Abhorsen Lirael's replacement right hand, which was created from gold and platinum, and incredible amounts of charter magic. Lord Sameth had become renowned as the greatest charter mage alive, and the new land surrounding the original city of Belisaere was solid proof.

As I continued to behold the city, I could see parts of the wall that encompassed the entire city. It was a magical wall, also made by workers and mages under the tutelage of Lord Sameth. Very little of the original wall remained around the city. The new wall was another of Belisaere's defences, and was much like the Wall that separated the Old Kingdom from the land of Ancelstierre, not just covered in, but made nearly completely of, charter magic. But this wall around the city was a defence against free magic. No petty necromancer or free magic spirit could enter the city, and no greatly powerful one could enter unnoticed. It was fortunate that Lord Sameth had the foresight to include a spell which opened a gate that allowed free magic through the wall under strict supervision. If it were not for this spell, I would have had to reveal more of my power than I was willing to show at this point, for I could cross the wall of Belisaere, I could even cross it silently, as I had done many times before.

There was a knock at the door, which startled me out of my contemplation of the city. The door was immediately opened, in plain disrespect to the occupants of the room, as it was courteous to wait for a reply before entering a room, however I was used to this treatment, and understood their hate for me. Royal guards flowed into the room, and took up position in two rows either side of the door, their hands on the hilts of their swords. There were fourteen guards in all, all of them powerful charter mages. Then, through the door, entered the Abhorsen Lirael, followed by the Abhorsen Sabriel, who was the most legendary figure in the whole of the Old Kingdom. The two Abhorsens were in full raiment, with their armor, their surcoats, their swords and their bells. Lirael had taken off the gloved she had on earlier, however, and her right hand sparkled, both with the reflections of the sun coming in from the window, and with the thousands of charter marks that gave it every semblance of a real human hand other than the appearance of skin. Lirael and Sabriel both took up position at the end of the rows of guards, more at ease, but still clearly alert. Then entered the retired King Touchstone, his dual swords sheathed at his waist, followed by the ruling Queen Ellimere. It surprised me that so many of the royal family was here, though it did not seem that King Nicholas was present. Touchstone spoke.

"Your name, necromancer?" He asked, his tone defiant. He clearly did not believe a word I had told Lirael, who had undoubtedly relayed to the congregation present. I turned around, and bowed low, motioning for Livana to do the same. She begrudgingly complied. She did not like to be under the command of anybody, and only followed me because she wanted to.

"My Lord, my name is Emantek." I said, as I straightened up. "And this is my companion Livana." Touchstone seemed taken aback for a moment at our display of respect, however he kept his stern expression.

"We have no proof that what you have told the Abhorsen Lirael is the truth, other than the bells you wear." He declared. "We have decided to test you, in the most reliable way. If you do not comply to our every request, you will be killed where you stand. Do you understand?" Livana glanced at me, her expression blank as ever, however I had long since learned to understand the meaning behind her eyes. She was worried. She feared death, I knew, and only entered it when I was present to ensure she could return, though she had the power herself. I nodded ever so slightly to her.

"We understand, Your Majesty. We will comply with whatever you ask of us." Touchstone nodded, then stepped back. Queen Ellimere then took the position of interrogator. She raised her chin, showing she was unafraid.

"This is how things are going to work." She said. "Our two Abhorsens here, are going to first bind each of you with Saraneth." Livana glanced at me again, apprehension in her eyes. I nodded slightly once more, telling her I had it under control. "Then, they will ring Belgaer, while my Father and I cast a charter spell. This will ensure that everything you tell us after the spell is complete is the truth. You will then confirm everything you have told the Abhorsen Lirael. Are we clear?"

"Yes Your Majesty." I replied. Ellimere looked pleased, though whether this was by my cooperation, or by how well she had presented herself in front of a necromancer, I could not tell. She then nodded at Sabriel and Lirael, and the two Abhorsens drew Saraneth, ringing it in a simple, but powerful figure-eight pattern. I felt Lirael's will surround Livana, and she began to struggle.

"Don't." I whispered to her. She looked at me fearfully for a second, then relaxed, and complied. Sabriel's will washed over me through the sound of the bell, and I was suddenly struck by how gentle this legendary woman was. She held no hate in her heart, and her cold, precise determination always shown against the dead was just that. Out of anybody here, I knew then, Sabriel would be the one most likely to believe us. She almost did already.

Once the sound of the two Saraneths died away, the women returned the bells to their bandoliers, and drew Belgaer, the Thinker. It was not very well known, that the fifth bell, when combined with Saraneth, could force the subject to tell only the truth. The charter spell was most likely merely an insurance that the truth told was the whole truth. As Belgaer sounded doubly, my mind began to cloud. My thought grew thick and stuggish, until I could barely think. Then the sound began to work with Saraneth, and my mind began to clear. Ellimere and Touchstone cast a charter spell of revelation and truth on Livana and me, and as the sound of Belgaer died, the spell was complete. Then touchstone spoke.

"What is your name, necromancer?" He asked once again. I found words spilling out of my mouth before I made the decision to talk, but I had expected this.

"My name is Emantek, Your Majesty." I replied. The spell forcing me to say no more. The congregation relaxed a little. Even the guards in the background became slightly less rigid. Sabriel then spoke.

"Tell us, Emantek, what exactly are you?" She asked, her confusion subtle but present on her face. She had not been there when I had met Lirael near the town. This was a more complex question, and the spell that bound me to the truth could not uncover it so easily. This was a question I would have to answer myself.

"I am a Free Magic sorcerer, and a necromantic adept." I replied, but hastily continued. "But in a way more similar to yourself, Lady Abhorsen. I have sworn myself onto a path to put the dead to rest, rather than enslave them against their will."

"You say you put the dead to rest." Continued Sabriel. "However you are right now standing next to a greater dead spirit, housed in a cleverly concealed free magic body. The spell you are under means that you tell the truth, but an explanation of your companion is in order." I nodded. I had anticipated this exact question.

"Yes, Lady Abhorsen, Livana is indeed a greater dead spirit, however I have not enslaved her against her will. She follows me because she wants to." The congregation recoiled slightly. The only way a greater dead spirit can be more dangerous than when chained to a necromancer, is when it is free from all constraints. "She is unlike any other dead spirit, however. She does not need to consume the energy of the living. Neither is she effected by running water, as you have witnessed in her crossing the aqueducts into the city. She has been healed almost completely of her afflictions caused by being dead." Again Sabriel spoke.

"How is that possible? Abhorsen Lirael gave us your explanation, but still none of us understand." I smiled.

"Yrael." I repeated, simply. Touchstone started forward, but seemed to restrain himself.

"Alright necromancer, we've heard this already. Start giving us some straight answers." He said. His voice clearly only just constrained above a roar, as the berserker blood in him threatened to boil. Sabriel calmly laid a hand on his arm, and he immediately regained his composure. Sabriel looked at me apologetically.

"What my husband means to say." She said. "Is that we have heard this from Abhorsen Lirael's report, however we still do not understand. I think it is time for you to explain your two additional bells." I nodded. This was the fulcrum of our case. I took a deep breath.

"The eighth and ninth bells I carry with me are not like any others. They are they only ones in existence, as I made them myself." The congregation remained silent, awe mixed with disbelief on their faces. "You know the seven original bells, Ranna the Sleeper, Mosrael the Waker, Kibeth the Walker," A sad look came over Lirael's face as I said the name of the third bell. I had heard rumour that her best friend, known as the Disreputable Dog, was a remnant of Kibeth. I grimaced slightly in sympathy, then continued. "Dyrim the Speaker, Belgaer the Thinker, Saraneth the Binder, and Astarael the Weeper. These each represent one of the seven bright shiners who crafted the charter in the beginning." I stopped for a few seconds, preparing for what I was about to say.

"The two bells I have crafted, using very old and half-forgotten spells and enchantments, are Yrael, the Healer, and Orannis, the Destroyer." Everybody in the room except Livana flinched as I said The Destroyer's name. Half the guards also almost drew their swords. Orannis was not a name said lightly. Before anybody could ask any further questions, I continued. "Yrael, the Healer, as its name describes, can heal the wounds of the body, mind, and soul, regardless of whether or not the spirit is alive. It is this bell that I have used to cure Livana. It has healed her hunger for the living, it has healed her affliction to running water, and it has healed her of any resentment she held against the world of the living. The eighth bell has made her as close to being alive, as any dead spirit can get." Sabriel stayed calm and silent throughout my explanation, but now she spoke.

"That answers many questions we have held about your companion, and your bells. However, what about the ninth bell?" Lirael nodded. Touchstone and Ellimere simply looked awed, clearly not able to completely understand all that was being said.

"The ninth bell, The Destroyer, almost killed me to make. It is aptly named The Destroyer, as it unleashed a great and terrible force upon the target. I have only once used this bell, and was only just able to control it, as it rages against my will, seeking to destroy everything around it, including me." Complete silence greeted my words. I knew that each and every person in the room, save the guards, had come within a hair's breadth of being the first killed by the destroyer thirty years ago when it had escaped its bonds.

"It is indeed a dangerous bell…" Sabriel finally managed to whisper. "But… why make it? If it is such a terrible force, why craft it into a bell?" She shook her head, and Lirael, Touchstone, and Ellimere nodded in agreement.

"Put simply… out of respect." I replied. "If I were to have bells of only eight of the nine bright shiners, I would be disrespecting the shiner not made into bell. I am aware of how terrible The Destroyer is, which is why I have great respect for it." Lirael shook her head, but Sabriel seemed more understanding.

"That is true." The older woman agreed. "Well, our spell has ensured you speak the truth and you have accepted our terms and complied to our requests, so we must believe you. You are indeed who you say you are. This, however, creates a very tricky scenario for us. My line of work is in banishing both the dead, and the necromancers who raise them. You have raised a dead spirit, but she is no threat. If we were to let you go, you would either need be under spell, or magically sworn agreement that you will never performed the detestable acts of a necromancer." She paused, deep in thought, as if remembering something. Then she continued. "In truth, I have heard of your work before, though I knew not who it was at the time. Reportedly broken charter stones made whole again, dead banished without my or Lirael's assistance. You have indeed been helping our cause for some time, Emantek. We are dubious about the future, but can use all the help we can get to combat the dead." I nodded. The dead were becoming restless again, and it was beginning to become more than even two Abhorsens could handle.

"We have one more request of you." Chimed Ellimere. "We wish for you to allow my brother, Lord Sameth, to inspect Yrael and the destroyer, the two bells you carry." I nodded in agreement. Touchstone motioned to his guards, and they filed out of the room, Sabriel gestured for us to follow, and left with Touchstone, Ellimere, and Lirael. I looked at Livana and nodded. Things had gone better than I had hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Lord Sameth

Lord Sameth's workshop was situated in a huge building that was built on the side of the castle, specifically for this purpose. "Sam designed, instigated, oversaw, and even funded the entire construction." Informed Ellimere as Livana and I were led out the enormous front gates of the castle, and into the comparatively small door that was the entrance to Sameth's workshop. Sabriel and Touchstone were needed elsewhere in the castle, and so had departed after the meeting previously, leaving Ellimere, Lirael, and the contingent of guards to escort us. "His old workshop became too small and confined, up in the tower. He practically sleeps in the new workshop too, just like he did the old one." A faint smile came across the woman's face, and her eyes glazed over slightly, lost in the past. She snapped back to the present, and strode purposefully up to the door.

The door itself was an astounding work of artistry, craftsmanship, and Charter Magic. It was similar to the Wall, but apparently constructed of wood, rather than stone and mortar, and seemed to possess a life and intelligence of its own. Charter marks flowed on, around, and IN the woodwork, which was chiselled to perfection with twisting vines, disrupted occasionally by wooden flowers, which spread their way from the bottom left corner of the door, and stretched up and out, to each of the other corners. The ever-shifting charter marks made the vines seem to writhe and crawl over the surface of the door, creating a spine-tingling sight. The intent of the door was clear. Nothing living got past the door without the door's permission, and nothing dead got past the door, period.

Ellimere knocked on the door, three loud blows which seemed to resonate throughout the entire workshop. There was a flare of incredibly powerful Charter Magic, involving no less than seven master marks, which exploded out from the door, and engulfed the entire party, guards and all. I felt the charter mark on my head heat up, and knew that this spell would brush away the masterful disguise I had cast to conceal my corrupted mark, as if it were merely a fly in the wind. The heat in my forehead grew to a searing blaze, which happened every time somebody tested my charter mark, with false coverings or not. All the guards, Lirael, Ellimere, and Livana were undergoing the same examination, and I was suddenly fearful for Livana's and my safety. This spell was potent enough to blast us to cinders if it deemed us unworthy, which it no doubt would, as Livana was one of the Greater Dead, and I was a free magic sorcerer, and a necromancer to boot.

I prepared myself for the incendiary heat that was to turn my body to ash… but it never came. The heat in my forehead faded, and with it, the near blinding light which surrounded the whole party. I blinked, both in confusion, and to fully return my sight as the door swung inward, inviting passage into its domain. "I don't…" I began, but Lirael interrupted.

"Lord Sameth crafted this door himself. It is a work of Charter Magic that is arguably more powerful than the Wall itself. It can search a person, through their charter mark, uncorrupted or otherwise, and determine whether that person is fit to enter the workshop. Were it to deem you unfit… You can imagine what would have happened."

She walked brusquely through the doorway. I shuddered, and kept my mind from wandering in the direction of fiery punishment. After giving Livana a cursory glance, to ensure she was alright, I stepped through the portcullis. The magical wooden doorframe shivered as I passed through it, as if sensing the taint of free magic in me, but suppressing its violent and destructive reaction. The rest of the party followed through and the contingent of guards waited outside, but my attention was not on them. It was sturdily focused on the contents of the gargantuan room that opened up before me. It was an amazingly vast plethora of tools, parts, and raw materials, as well as various workspaces consisting of benches, desks, stools, shelves and miscellaneous stations for crafting or deconstructing the materials and parts that lay in a state of orderly disarray throughout the workshop.

Lord Sameth was waiting for us in front of the closest desk to the door, which was piled high with papers. He caught my glance at the desk, and spoke; "A desk of suggestions for potential inventions, improvements, or upgrades from the people. Ellimere's idea. This is just today's submissions." He grimaced, and then extended a hand. "You must be Emantek. I'm Sam." I shook his hand, and respectfully dipped my head.

"Yes, I am Emantek." I replied. "And this is my partner, Livana." As she was introduced, Livana stepped forward, and gave a neat curtsey.

"Good evening, Lord." She said, her voice neat and curt, as I had taught her. We needed to appeal to these people, so they wouldn't send our souls past the ninth gate, to the point of no return. Sam dismissed her courtesy with a slight wave.

"Please friends, no need for such formalities. This is not a place of politics; it is a place of magic, of science, and of invention." He gestured to the workshop behind him, his eyes lighting up with wonder, as if seeing the place for the first time. "I build this place to be free from the tiresome tediousness of formality in the rest of the kingdom. Where I can tinker, experiment, build, and improve to my heart's content, without interference from the troublesome ceremonialism that permeates the castle. But to matters at hand, I believe you have something that my parents would like me to inspect."

I nodded, slowly slipping the pack off my back. After undoing the clasps on the bag, I drew out my bell bandolier. Sameth visibly stiffened, and sweat appeared on his brow, before he banished it with a wipe from his sleeve, and relaxed his muscles. I nodded. It was known to me, but very few other people, that Lord Sameth, master builder, and inheritor to the Wallmaker's bloodline and legacy, was afraid of death, and everything associated to it.

I refrained from putting the bandolier on, as was my habit, but instead held it out to Sameth. "You are familiar with the seven original bells, Ranna, Mosrael, Kibeth, Dyrim, Belgaer, Saraneth and Astarael, however, I have made two new additions to my arsenal of bells. Yrael, and the Destroyer, whose name I will not speak, out of courtesy to you and your kin."

Sam nodded thanks. "It has been long since the destroyer was bound anew, however I still shudder at the memory, and the name still holds power, even here. I will endeavour not to handle the bells myself, so if you would please come this way." He turned around, and began weaving his way through the clutter, towards a small, secluded section of the workshop in the far corner, which was surrounded by a fabric curtain, which Sameth swept aside, allowing entry. This space, small as it was, was considerably tidier than the rest of the building.

"This is where I tend to all the… more serious pieces of magic. Everything in this section, including the floor, walls, ceiling and curtain, as well as all the instruments, are magically fortified against all kinds of magic. There are even enchantments in the air contained within this space, which serve to confine all magic in this one area."

I nodded. I had a similar workspace, albeit less tidy, and far less pristine, when I had made my bells. I noticed two unique contraptions that sat in the middle of the desk. It seemed that Sameth had been informed of even the finer details of my visit before we arrived at his workshop. The two items in question were bell holders. Made almost completely of charter magic, they consisted of a broad, highly adjustable ring which clamped around the outside of the bell, and a leather and magic smaller loop in the center, to hold the bell's clapper. The rest of the bell holders resembled a regular vice, and were bolted obstinately to the bench top. Sameth noticed me examining the contraptions, and nodded.

"Yes, Emantek, if you would please place your two bells in these holders, I will be able to do my examinations thoroughly, without risk of the bells sounding."

I bowed my head slightly, and carefully removed Yrael from its pouch. As soon as the clapper cleared the leather tongue of the bandolier, I clasped it with three fingers, and transferred the bell to the holder on the bench. The big loop of the holder automatically tightened on the bell when it was satisfied with the positioning, and the tongue of the holder snaked up and held tightly to the bell's clapper. This was one bell, that was not going to make a sound. I released the breath I was holding, and reached for the second bell, Orannis, The Destroyer, but hesitated.

"Lord Sameth." I warned. "Yrael is quite a lot more peaceful than The Destroyer… Its will is in this bell, and it will not cooperate… It nearly killed me when I forged it, and since that time, it has never left this pouch, are you absolutely certain that this holder will be able to contain such force?"

Sameth nodded, and glanced at my bandolier. "I did notice that the enchantment on your ninth pouch is incredibly powerful. Have no fear, I made these holders myself, and they are imbued with the power of the Original Seven. There is little chance of The Destroyer's power breaking free."

I bowed my head again gratefully. "Thank you, Lord Sameth. It would be terrible if its power escaped, and wrought havoc around Belisaere. It would weigh terribly on my conscience." I paused once again, holding my breath. Absolute precision, of both hand-eye coordination, and strength of will, were needed to handle Orannis. Even the slightest sound of the bell, the tiniest chime, would be enough to break my hold over it. The magic in the room may help, but it would not contain The Destroyer's wrath completely.

The other inhabitants of the room held their breaths… waiting. I undid the pouch strap on my bandolier, and slowly eased the bell out, stilling the clapper before it left the leather tongue. Sameth was correct, in that the magic imbued into this ninth pouch on my bandolier, were several hundred times more powerful than those on the others. It too, like Sam's bell holders, was imbued with the essence and power of the original seven, as well as the eighth, Yrael.

Orannis's clapper jerked in my hand, bashing my knuckles against the inside of the bell, however I did not loosen my hold. The Destroyer's anger raged against my will; however I quashed it forcefully, and quickly transferred the dangerous bell to the second bell holder on the bench. As the ring tightened, and the clapper was fastened, I began to breathe once more, and audible sighs of relief were heard from Sameth, Lirael, and Livana.

"I shall get to work at once." Declared Sam; "I need space for this spell, and no distractions, if you could please move outside this curtain, so I can concentrate. Feel free to explore the workshop." He then closed his eyes for some moments. He began to mutter, and his fingers sketched charter marks in the air. He began weaving an elaborate and complex spell, made up of hundreds of regular charter marks, interspersed here and there by master marks. I saw no more, for Lirael ushered Livana and I out of the room, and back into the workshop proper.

Livana and I spent several hours wandering around Sameth's workshop, guided by Lirael, looking at the amazingly vast collection of odds and ends scattered about. He seemed to be working on a score or more projects, all at once, and had hundreds of orders and requests banked up on his suggestions desk. Once or twice, I thought I saw something white flash underneath a desk, or around a corner, but whenever I looked again, there was nothing unusual to see.

After one such occurrence, I turned to Lirael to point it out, only to find, perched on a bench right next to me, a little white cat. It looked just like a normal white cat. All but its eyes… Its eyes glinted with a knowledge and wisdom of several millennia. The cat sat back on its hind legs, and gave its left front paw several licks, before looking up into my eyes.

"Hello, Emantek." Said Mogget; also known as Yrael, the eighth Bright Shiner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Bright Shiner

"Yrael" I exclaimed as I dropped to one knee. "I did not know you were in Belisaere" The small cat shrugged, and with a paw motioned me to stand.

"Emantek, it has been some time. I am only in Belisaere for a brief time, and only because Sameth needed my assistance with an issue concerning a bell, made in the image of myself" Yrael winked at me, and gave his paw a lick. "You knew yourself you couldn't avoid this forever Emantek" I nodded.

Mine and the Eighth Shiner's paths had crossed once before, almost a decade ago. The cat had spent several weeks traveling with Livana and I, and had no shortage of questions to ask, or to answer. Yrael's eyes saw through the free magic haze that surrounded me, to the bane of the dead that I am. He asked of me, and of Livana. How we had both come to be traveling the path we were. He already knew about the bells I carried though. Of course he would, one of them was made in his image. He had also answered all of my questions freely; questions about the royal family, the Abhorsen, the city of Belisaere, The Wallmakers, Lord Sameth in particular, and anything else I cared to ask him about. He filled me in on the events that had transpired in the era of the second binding of The Destroyer, he had explained how each party involved in the binding had played their parts, and told me of the Disreputable Dog, the power left over from Kibeth. Yrael had told me about the personal traits of the Royal Family, and the two Abhorsen, how Kibeth had been Abhorsen Lirael's friend and companion. He had told me of Lord Sameth's aversion to death, and all things necromantic. He had even answered questions about the bells that I had forged; about their powers, their weaknesses, their dangers, and their proper use.

"Yes. I knew this day would come, but I was unsure of how events would turn out. This is as good an outcome as I could have asked for" Yrael grinned, a wicked, knowing smile.

"Remember, Bane of the Dead, this day is not yet over" The cat slinked off with that remark, in Sameth's direction. Clearly Sameth had requested the Bright Shiner's assistance in diagnosing and evaluating each bell, though how the Wallmaker had gotten in touch with the Cat, I had no idea. Yrael had told me of his liking for Sameth, and his aversion towards politics, which is probably why the only place the cat ever went in Belisaere, was this workshop. I had the feeling that examining the bells was not the only reason why Mogget was here. Livana, who had stayed silent throughout the exchange, sniffed in distaste.

"You still dislike him, Livana?" I queried. Yrael had shown too much interest in Livana for her liking during our last meeting, and she seemed to hold it against the Shiner. He HAD asked a huge plethora of questions about her though, and I could understand why she might have been a little defensive, but that encounter was almost ten years ago. "You certainly know how to hold a grudge"

"I care nothing for him" replied Livana indignantly. I could sense from her mood, and the slight narrowing in her eyes, that she wished to be out of this city. More so now that Mogget was there. I was more used to civilisation, but I shared some of her anxiety. The Capitol of the Old Kingdom was no place for a Necromancer and one of the Greater Dead to reside in long. All of my previous visits had only been brief, less than a day, and not a single soul even saw me, let alone two Abhorsen, as well as the whole Royal Family and Royal Guard. This was a risky situation I'd found myself in, and could end horribly at even the slightest wrong turn.

For several hours, Livana and I wandered around the workshop with no shortage of things to see. The few people working there, Sameth's apprentices, as I understood it, usually avoided us, but we managed to get a few talking about various projects they were undertaking. One was working on the Charter spell behind an amazingly tricky contraption, and explained it to us with enthusiasm once we asked. It was based on the weapons used in Ancelstierre, known as 'Rifles'. It was a long tube, attached at one end to a stylised handgrip. Slung below the tube, was an incredibly small charter stone, smaller than my fist, and just in front of the hand grip, was a strange, lever-like mechanism, that the apprentice explained to me, was called a 'trigger'. A staggeringly powerful and complex charter spell was laid on the trigger, so that once the trigger was pulled, a blast of energy was sent flying down and out of the tube, firing a projectile of pure destructive Charter magic at incredible speed and force, to destroy any member of the dead. All of this powered by the charter stone.

"This is only the prototype" explained the apprentice. "The most we have been able to accomplish is a single blast, before the tube, even reinforced with charter magic, is destroyed." I nodded. Such a measure of pure Charter magic would undoubtedly wreak havoc with anything non-living. The capabilities of the contraption were incredible. A single shot would instantly vanquish all but one of the Greater Dead, and possibly a Mordicant.

"This is incredible…" I muttered, under my breath, but the apprentice still heard, and he grinned. I barely noticed though. My mind was racing with all the free magic implications – and applications – of this device. The possibilities were nearly limitless.

"We've scheduled a test-fire of the latest prototype for tomorrow morning, sir" the apprentice was saying. "If you'd like to come and observe, I'm sure Master Sameth would be happy to accommodate" I couldn't stop the grin from spreading on my face. This man knew I was a free magic sorcerer. The corrupt mark was clear on my forehead after the door had wiped my disguise away. Yet he was not afraid. It showed how much faith he had in the creations of his instructor, but also showed his devotion to his craft. He cared not what type of magic I practiced. The door had let me through, and I was interested in physical, practical applications of magic.

"If I am still in Belisaere" I said, holding out my hand to the apprentice, "I will be there." The mage grasped my forearm, and I knew, that here was a man I could trust.

"The name is Torran." The man said. "Apprentice to Master Sameth, the Wallmaker. But you already knew that." I nodded.

"And I am Emantek" I replied. "By now, you probably know what I am. You are a powerful charter mage; one of the strongest I have seen lately, after the Abhorsen and Sameth himself." Torran shrugged, embarrassed, and I grinned again. The apprentice turned to Livana.

"And what of you, my Lady? May I ask the pleasure of your name?" Livana looked taken aback. People we met often commented on her beauty and grace to me, but only in whispers, thinking she would not hear, but rarely did they address her directly.

"I… I am Livana." She managed, and Torran bowed. It was possible that Torran did not know what she was. Possible, but not likely.

Torran seemed about to continue, when I felt a slight prick on my ankle. As I looked down, I saw Yrael, retracting his claw from my leg, and looking up at me.

"I am usually no messenger for anybody, but for Sameth, I make an exception. He requests your presence." With that, the cat stalked away. Again, I was sure I would see him again before leaving Belisaere. I turned to Torran.

"Thank you, Torran. I appreciate your company" The apprentice's grin grew wider. "I am impressed with this creation of yours."

"I guess I'll see you in the morning then, Emantek." He turned to Livana. "My Lady." He bowed a second time, then turned again, and walked back to his workbench, where the prototype charter rifle sat, and began chanting and weaving charter marks. A spell to further reinforce the barrel, I saw, from the few marks I gleamed before I turned and made my way to the curtain behind which Sameth waited. I began to grow anxious; Sameth could still proclaim these bells too dangerous to let a Free Magic Necromancer carry about, and they would likely be confiscated. I would not let them go.

I drew open the corner of the curtain, and went inside, holding it open for Livana to step through. Sam waited for us, leaning against the workbench, sweat glistening on his forehead, and an astonished look on his face. He glanced up as we entered, and I saw a flicker of awe in his eyes, before he masked his face, and stood up.

"How?" He questioned. Not a demand, as such, but I could see that he expected an answer, and a truthful one. "How did you do it? I myself have spent years attempting to create bells such as these – Charter Magic counterparts, anyway – and all my attempts have ended in disastrous failure. This workshop has been rebuilt three times, after being destroyed by my experiments into these. How did you do it?" His voice was strong, but an undercurrent of… something else… lay underneath it. Awe? As I had noticed in his eyes before? Or fear… fear of what it had taken to craft these bells. I took a deep breath… I was about to reveal a secret that no others but Livana and I knew.

"Yrael." I began. "Was not an overly difficult bell to craft. I had some help and cooperation from him whilst I crafted the bell. The Destroyer, on the other hand… I was almost destroyed in the process of making that bell. It is not so easy, to dominate even such a small portion of The Destroyers power, that lies in that bell." Sam shook his head.

"Yes, I am aware, I have tried myself, but how did you do it!?" He was growing impatient. It seemed even just the study of the two bells had taken a lot out of him, as I had expected.

"Your Charter Stones are much like a source of charter magic, are they not?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Sam nodded. "Similar to the wall, and the Great Charter Stones that rest underneath this city." Again, Sam nodded, clearly wondering where I was going with this. "You have sources of Charter Magic… would it not be naïve to assume, that we do not have sources of Free Magic?" Sam looked stunned…

"A… A source of Free Magic? A Free Magic Stone? Why have we heard nothing of this before now?" He punched his workbench. "Charter curse it! If Free Magic sorcerers have access to these Free Magic Stones, we may be in more trouble than we realise." I raised my hand, to calm him, and he shook his head, clearly wanting to report this finding straight away.

"Calm yourself, Lord Sameth. These stones, these sources of Free Magic, are not available to every free magic sorcerer. In fact, there is only one such stone that I know of. And it resides in my possession." Sam visibly calmed, but still looked anxious and confused.

"In your possession? How can a source of magic powerful enough to overcome even a fragment of The Destroyer's power and rage, possibly be small enough for you to have in your possession? We have our small Charter Stones, yes, like the one we use to power the Charter Rifle, but those have barely a tenth of the power of a regular charter stone, and not even a hundredth the power of one of the great stones."

"That is because your Charter Magic has too many limitations." I held up my left hand; on my middle finger, rested a thick, night-black ring. "Free Magic has no such boundaries. An incredible force of Free Magic can reside in such a small object, you would be hard pressed to even enchant with Charter Magic. This ring is a source of free magic as powerful as ten or more of your regular Charter Stones." Sameth looked aghast.

"Such a force of Free Magic… in such a small object… I assume no others know of this?" I nodded.

"None but Livana and I, and now you, know of this Free Magic source. Not even the other Free Magic sorcerers know of it." Sam looked as if he was about to ask another question, but I knew what he was going to ask, and no answered before he had the chance to speak. "I discovered it in an old tomb, buried deep beneath the Wall. The tomb, I believe, belonged to a direct descendant of one of the Bright Shiners. The man lived at the very beginning of the creation of the world. I am… a remembrancer of sorts, much like the Abhorsen Lirael, only I use an ancient, all-but-forgotten free magic spell, instead of Lady Abhorsen's shadow mirror, or one like it. The effects are much the same." Sameth nodded, soaking all of this in, but still looked puzzled. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, as if not knowing what to say, several times before he spoke.

"How is it that none of the other Free Magic sorcerers discovered this tomb? Or this remembrance spell? There have been thousands of Free Magic sorcerers since the creation, from petty necromancers, to those like Hedge. Why are you the first to discover these things?" It was my turn to nod. I had expected this question too.

"Because, put simply, every other Free Magic sorcerer has only been interested in knowledge for power's sake. They all learn a crude, rudimentary knowledge of Free Magic, get their hands on some bells, and start raising dead hands. Even Hedge was only after power to destroy his enemies, and bring about the return of The Destroyer. I am very likely not the first to discover the remembrance spell, but I was the first that saw the potential behind it, and to put it to use." Sam shook his head.

"If you could stay in Belisaere for several years, Emantek, there would be such incredible amounts of information we could learn from you…" He trailed off, lost in thought, then seemed to snap back to the present. "So you used this Free Magic source to overpower The Destroyer, and craft this bell."

"Yes" I replied. "I used it to assist in the crafting of Yrael also, but did not need to rely so heavily on its power for that one." There was a satisfied purr from the corner of the curtain-walled room, and as I glanced, I saw a brief flicker of a snowy white tail.

"Well Emantek, you have complied with all our requests, so I cannot exactly demand you be detained here, nor can I keep these bells from you. They are your creation, and I believe they are safest in your hands." I nodded thankfully. That was the greatest of my worries. Sam continued. "I will notify my Sister at once, that you are to be released from the city. I am sure my Aunt and my Mother will be eager to speak with you about your future involvement in their… affairs… so I won't keep you. You should head back to your rooms for now, we have kept your presence here as quiet as we can. It would not do to start a panic in Belisaere." He stretched out his hand, and I clasped his forearm as well. He grinned at me, and I couldn't help grinning back. Two friends in the space of a few hours. Who would have thought?

Sam motioned for me to retrieve the bells from the holders on the workbench, and I carefully placed them back in the bandolier that rested on my saddlebags in the corner of the room, and hid the bandolier back in the bags. I slung them over my shoulder, and with a wave to Sameth, left for my room with Livana in tow.


End file.
